


Three Times Theon Didn't Do It, And One Time He Almost Did.

by eastar



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Canon Related, Fix-It, Kinda, M/M, Robb dies here, my first fic tho, not much, this is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 17:24:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3737278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eastar/pseuds/eastar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times Theon Greyjoy didn't say the words,<br/>and one time he almost did. </p><p>kinda a fix-it fic. But since I'm a horrible person and I want that red comet to hit Westeros so everyone dies and everyone wins Robb is going to die here anyways. </p><p>But Theon would be next to him, and that will be better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Times Theon Didn't Do It, And One Time He Almost Did.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys so this is my first fic >.

The first time Theon almost said “I love you’ to Robb was when he was still, a rather young and innocent green boy. He was not sure whether it was love or not—he jus felt like Robb was more than just a friend. Not brothers—Theon knew he was nothing more than a hostage, and even the Snow bastard had a high state than he did—but very close friends indeed.

He didn’t know what love is. Of course, in front of Robb and Jon he would act like he knew what love is. But the truth is he confused love with sex. He would describe the delicious moans the girls were making while he ducked under the window of a brothel. Oh, how beautiful those girls were—he would say—how pretty their ginger hair were when they bounced in the dim orange light from the candle. He would talk about all those details until Jon had to shut him up by chasing him with a stick. That is the art of love, Theon would proudly say.

Just like he confused love with sex, Theon was also convinced that he confused his friendship with Robb as love. He got jealous for a few times, but that wasn’t because he loved Robb, right—that was because other people kept stealing his only friend—Theon told himself.

Anyways, Theon was convinced for a long time that he and Robb are just very good friends, and he never thought about sharing anymore dreams with Robb—they just got weirder lately.

But yet, the first time Theon Greyjoy was brave and rich enough to step into that brothel he had been spying on for a few months, he asked for a ginger girl.

 

News spread like wild-fire, and Theon knew that better than anyone else. He saw how his childhood playmate, who he still considered as a younger brother and someone who weren’t suppose to go visit a brothel, became the Lord of Winterfell. Only a few months ago, Ned Stark would still be teaching his son how to be a suitable lord, riding horses with him and hunting side by side. A few days ago, Robb was still a son. But now, he was a Lord. You can’t be both at the same time.

Robb walked around the empty hall, the sound of his footsteps echoed in the room. Theon’s lips were dry and his throat burning.

“Theon,” Robb broke the silence. He was facing the window, looking out to the sights of the North. “I want to go save my father. I can’t just sit here and do nothing while those Lannisters think they can imprison my sisters and do charge my father with treason! I have to take some actions—the North needs a leader, not a son waiting for his father’s return. I have to lead my people.” Robb said in his angry voice. “Will you join me, Theon?”

“No.” Theon heard himself saying that. He recalled the reason why he, a Greyjoy that belonged to the roaring sea, was there. He could have been a prince, but yet he was a hostage. That was all because of that failed rebellion. Theon feared the same thing would happen to Robb. Even though Robb didn’t have any kids to be taken as hostages, but what about Bran? Rickon? Theon knew the pain, and he didn't want Robb to experience them.

Robb was apparently surprised by the answer. He turned away from the window and walked up to Theon with a few big steps. He grabbed Theon by the collar and stared right into Theon’s eyes with his blue Tully’s eyes. They were close, close enough got Theon to feel Robb’s breath and see the waves in Robb’s eyes. But that wasn’t a calm sea; that was the sea before a storm.

“What do you mean by ‘No’? I thought we were brothers! My father raised you up as if you were one of his kins, if it wasn’t him, you would—you disrespectful—” he didn’t continue. He silenced for a few seconds, trying to find the right word.

“Have you ever thought about losing?’ Theon said in his shaky voice. Robb was close—too close—all his memories about Robb, about those dreams suddenly came back to him. Theon shook them off and tried to concentrate. “What if you fail? What would happen to you? You’ll die, your father will die too, and so are you sisters. Bran and Rickon will die. Maybe your half-brother at the Wall will die too. Do you want that to happen?”

“And why would you care?” Robb snapped. ‘After al, you’re a Greyjoy. You’re not a family member after all.”

Theon wanted to open his mouth and say “I care because I love you and I hate to watch your suffer’, but like what he had felt a few minutes ago, his lips were dry and his throat was sour, so he couldn’t say a thing.

 

“I love you” were strong words, and Theon learnt to use them with caution. He let go of his childhood dreams about Robb for a long time. War was long and tiring. There was no time for love affairs, not late night thinking, nor telling deep secrets to each other. Everything was done in a hurry—eating , sleeping, fighting, marching, even having sex. Theon didn’t enjoy the sex he was having back then—they were not particularly pleasant, but if that was the only way to get his urges out, he would do it. He learnt to not be picky with his partners, although he still, preferred ginger hair girls to any other girls.

War grained all his energy. That was good, Theon once thought to himself. This way he wouldn’t have the time or energy to think about Robb. Thoughts related to Robb were often troublesome. He would be confused for a long time, angry with himself, hated himself for having those dirty thoughts towards his best and only friend. He would dream about Robb kissing him, then waking up, feeling horrible and hating himself, and feeling satisfied at the same time.

He didn’t know much about Robb; it seemed like all they talked about in those days was the War. Theon still feared that maybe one day, Robb’s luck would run out and he would end up like his father. But so far, Robb had no sign of losing the war.

“They call me ‘King of the North’.” Robb said to Theon one day.

“That’s some good news.” Theon replied.

“I want to marry Jeyne Westerling.” Robb said.

That was bad news from every aspect; not minding Theon’s feelings, but destroying trust between the Freys and the Starks for a girl was not worth it.

“Are you out of your mind? Westerling—they serve the Lannisters! And you can’t just put away the Frey’ marriage like that! You're engaged! Robb, you can’t do that!” Theon yelled.

“Nothing is ever going to happen, I’m marring that girl. I love her, not a woman who I have never met.” Robb turned to Theon and continued: “And she’s carrying my kin…I don’t want her child to be a bastard. You saw what those words have done to Jon, you and I both know that’s the only way to sort this out!”

Theon’s face darkened. His heart also sunk.

“I want your blessings.” Robb said. That was more like an order than an ask.

“You will have my blessings; you will always have my blessings.” Theon said in a soft voice.

“Because I love you, and I want the best for you.” He said those words to himself after Robb left. There was no need for Robb to hear those words anyways.

 

So when Theon saw Roose Bolton whispered those words by Robb’s ear and stabbed that sword though his chest, Theon knew it was all too late. He himself, was wounded. He was trying to lose himself in wine and the music, and then the painful night turned into something even more painful: watching the one you loved so deeply being murdered on his own wedding, and you’re not the one why he holds the wedding for.

Theon mouth’s tasted like the mixture of wine and blood. There were 5 or 6 arrows on his back, and it hurt his neck to even lift his head a bit to watch how his king felt on the floor, how his crown rolled on the ground, stained with the King’s own blood.

Theon opened his mouth, trying to yell those words he wanted to say for a long time. But it was all too late. Robb’s eyes were dim and he couldn’t hear him.

Theon gave a bitter smile and laughed. Maybe he shouldn’t have drunk that much wine. Maybe he should have said those words a long time ago, at a time when Robb could still hear him.


End file.
